


Hetalia : Snapped! Series

by ForTheLoveOfWriting



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-16 11:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForTheLoveOfWriting/pseuds/ForTheLoveOfWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a series of one or two shots with some of your favorite characters in Hetalia. They may have different themes, but have the same end-result. Death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Last Straw : Canada

Canada is fed up with constantly being ignored, underestimated, and unnoticed. He is going to get revenge on them all. Starting with the two men who raised him and influenced him the most. Part one of the Snapped! Series.

Chapter I

Canada was morose. Even though his brother and their parents were over at his house having a good time, he wasn't. No matter how hard he tried to start up a conversation, or comment on what one of the said, he was ignored.

"So how's the weather in France? It's getting a bit warmer than usual in my country..."

"Very nice. Nice enough to go to the beach-"

"It isn't that hot, frog. I was just over there a few days ago." England snapped

"I'm the one who lives in France, non?"

Canada tried to interject. "It actually is pretty warm in France-"

"Whatever. I was just there." England retorted.

"At least in France, it doesn't rain so much." France muttered in disgust. While the two argued back and forth, America looked bored. He was obviously no longer interested in what was going on and got up to go to the bathroom. Canada cleared his throat, as he was anxious being left to their arguing parents. The yelling continued and got louder. Canada started to become nervous. Soon, they were hitting each other, rolling around on the carpet like little children. Canada attempted to get them to stop.

"You guys-"

"Stupid Frenchie!"

"Old man!"

"Cheese – eating frog!"

"You guys-" The lame insults continued until Canada attempted to yell the loudest he could ( which still wasn't too loud, but loud enough for them to stop ).

"Stop fighting!" Canada yelled. The two men looked up at the angered Canadian in confusion.

"When did you get here?" England asked.

"I was the one to invite you guys over in the first place!" Canada fumed. At that moment America burst in the living room.

"Do you have any extra toilet – paper?" He asked. Canada shot him a look.

"Calm down, ma cherie-" France soothed.

"My name is Canada, " Canada hissed. France frowned. " But you probably didn't remember it. Of course I don't expect you to anyway."

"Uh, bro? T-p?" He reminded him impatiently.

"Upstairs, second door to the left." With that, Canada gave his parents a nasty look before heading into the kitchen to make supper.

After Canada's little outburst earlier, France, England, and America were unusually quiet. They had not seen him so upset in a long time. Or at least they couldn't remember it...

Canada came out with the dessert, which were crepes, showing some of his French culture. France smiled a bit uneasily at the boy.

"They look magnifique, Mathieu," The Frenchman commented. Canada's mood brightened a bit, hearing that France used his real name. America was shoving food down his throat while England looked pleased as well. Maybe things would go well tonight. The family feeling more relaxed, they started chatting happily. England kissed both France and America on the lips affectionately.

"You guys are too much!" England giggled. France noticed that England looked a bit dizzy.

"Are you okay, mi amour?" France asked. America seemed to be as dizzy as well.

"We are the best... just the three of us..." America slurred. Canada glared at him.

"What about me, Alfred? Aren't you forgetting someone?" Alfred frowned, then shook his head.

"Nah. I don't think so." France and England were making out at the dinner table. Alfred groaned.

"Hey, you guys forgot about me?" He whined. England kissed Alfred on his lips while France was kissing England's neck. Canada's face grew hot.

"You guys..." They ignored him.

Then the three fell to the floor, unconscious.


	2. The Last Straw : Canada - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada is fed up with constantly being ignored, underestimated, and unnoticed. He is going to get revenge on them all. Starting with the two men who raised him and influenced him the most. Part one of the Snapped! Series.

The Last Straw – Canada 

Oh, this is the best part! Enjoy. 

Warnings: Blood, gore, sadism, character death. If you're squeamish, don't read. Very graphic.

Chapter 2

France opened his eyes to darkness. Where was he? As he started to get up, he fell back down. Was he tied up? And why? France heard a grunt and turned to the noise, which was England. He was strapped down as well, trying to get up.

"This had better not be one of your sick jokes, Francis," he growled. Francis shook his head.

"No, I am afraid we're both stuck." England grunted as a response. "Why though?" Francis muttered. He somewhat suspected Russia. But Russia didn't really have anything against him or England. Maybe his sister Belarus? Or his own brother Scotland? None of it added up.

"Nobody knows we're here except for our sons, Alfred and Matthew..." England whispered. No, it couldn't be them. Could it?

"Oh, I see you two are awake," A voice spoke up. A man's footsteps were heard and the lights were flickered on. He had blonde hair with a curl, and glasses...

America?

"Is that you, Alfred love?" England whispered. A sharp knife was thrown an inch away from England, and he jumped.

"No, England... My name's CANADA!" He yelled angrily. Shocked by the tone of voice Matthew was using, fear appeared in their eyes. Then Canada laughed. "My name's freakin' Canada. You know that." Canada started towards his parents, hands behind his back. "Hello, mama. Papa..." His gaze shifted to Francis, who was smiling weakly. Arthur glared at Matthew.

"Is this some kind of prank boy?" He demanded. Matthew grinned.

"Does it look like it's a 'joke'?" Weapons were hanging around the room, dried blood was on the floor, and tubes of gas were huddled in a dusty corner. And Matthew – their son - was dressed in a lab coat as if he were playing 'doctor'.

"Mon fils... it was funny. Now the joke is over. Let your parents out." Matthew did not crack a smile.

"Who said it was a joke, papa...?" Francis's face twisted into fear and anger.

"Mathieu! Let us out now!" Francis started to struggle. Matthew just smirked cocked his head to the side.

"But we haven't even started yet!"

"Where is Alfred?" Arthur choked out. Matthew made a face.

"It's always about Alfred, isn't it?" Matthew snapped. He made his way to Arthur and climbed on top of the British man, straddling him. He leaned down on Arthur's face. "Don't worry about him." Matthew's voice changed dramatically. "Worry about me, Goddammit!" He yelled. Matthew slumped off of Arthur and pulled a chair from the darkness. Alfred was tied up with a gag in his mouth. Matthew giggled.

"Surprise!" The American was scared to death, and was shaking. Tears were running down his cheeks.

"Alfred!" Arthur cried.

"Oh, shut up. He will be fine. He will also be watching the show, starring me!" The Canadian cheered.

Now I'm the center of your attentions. Not Alfred." Matthew fixed his glasses. "Let's begin." Matthew pretended to ponder. "What shall I use to begin? This is always the hard part..." Alfred's eyes were wide in horror. Had he done this before? Matthew picked up a box and opened it, revealing its contents. In there was a dead, bloody Kumajiro with its eyes and mouth sewn shut. Its former owner stared in disgust. "The damn bear couldn't even remember that I am a country, let alone my name." He spit on it. Francis looked nauseous from the sight. "Mathieu..."

"What's wrong, Papa? Can't stand dead animals?" Matthew teased. " But you sure wouldn't mind killing beavers for your own sick pleasures. From my country." Matthew picked up a sharp, small razor. "Let's start small, yes?" As he headed to Francis, Francis started to panic.

"Papa..." he groaned. He ran the blade down his arm. Francis winced in pain. "Papa. Look at me. Tell me... do you love me?" To afraid to answer, he simply nodded. "Say it, papa. Tell me you love me."

"O-Oui." Matthew yanked Francis's hair and slammed his head onto the metal table he was on.

"Say it in a sentence, papa!"

"Oui. Je aime trés beaucoup, Mathieu." Satisfied, the Canadian let go of him.

"I'm gonna play with you two first, if that's okay. Of course it's okay, because I say so!" Matthew grabbed a batch of hot wax and laid strips on his parents' bodies. They screamed and Alfred's eyes widened. Matthew frowned.

"You're lucky I didn't pour the whole batch on you two and kill you. What would have been the fun in that?" Red splotches were evident on Francis and Arthur's body. Then Matthew stripped them until they were naked. He noticed that they were staring at him with wide eyes.

"What? What's wrong with being nude? You two, or you three I should say, know what each other look like. Doesn't surprise me though." Matthew grabbed a whip and slashed Francis on his body. He screamed. Matthew laughed at his misfortune and whipped him again. "I love hearing your voice Papa! Especially when you're fucking Arthur when you think I am sleep. But I can hear you very well." Francis's face was wet and snot was running down his nose.

"Mathieu... Mathieu..." He panted. " Merci-" Matthew whipped him again. This time, in his groin. Francis arched his hips, crying once more.

"What was it, Papa?"

"Mathieu... merci... stop..." To Francis's surprise, he stopped and laid the whip down. He walked towards Arthur.

"Arthur..." He was crying as well. " What's the matter? I haven't even gotten to the best part yet!" Silence. "Whatever. First, I'm going to grab my handy knife and take a few... unnescessary 'parts' from you. Don't worry – It won't hurt a bit!" Grabbing a butcher knife, Matthew went to Arthur first. He looked at his testicles and grinned madly. He held his penis and chopped the testicles off. Arthur let out a blood-curling scream. Matthew groaned happily.

"England, your screams are wonderful..." He turned to Papa. " I remembered when I was little that you said you were going to chop England's balls off. I guess I did it for you, non?" Francis's eyes were wide in terror. He finally chopped the whole organ off, blood spurting on his lab coat. Matthew sucked on it.

"Mmmm..." and he shoved the dead organ in his papa's mouth. "How do they taste, Papa? It still has that salty favor!" Francis made a face.

America, who was tied up still, managed to get the gag off of hs mouth.

"You're one sick bastard, Canada..." His voice was shaky and terrified. Matthew licked the knife and giggled. " I know." Grabbing a bigger knife off of the table, Matthew cut both his parent's legs up. Blood pooled around them. Alfred threw up on the ground.

After that, Matthew cut their chests open so their hearts could be seen beating by Matthew himself. Matthew cooed.

"So beautiful... too bad the won't be there any longer."

"Matthieu... don't!" Francis cried. Matthew kissed his father on the lips.

"Don't sweat it. Your organs will be gone in no time! You won't feel a thing!" The Brit and the Frenchman spent their last few moments together.

"I'll see you in Hell, frog."

"Same here, bastard."

Matthew pulled their rib cages open by hand and forced their hearts out of their place. Blood was everywhere, especially on the Canadians' mouth.

Then silence.

Matthew turned around to find Alfred out of the ropes and running for the door. After trying, the American realized that his attemps were futile, as the door couldn't open without a key.

Matthew came closer and closer with the knife...


	3. North Italy – Today Italy, Tomorrow the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Feliciano is always being taken advantage of by the other countries, more some than others. Having enough, he accomplishes something other countries have been trying to do for centuries.

Snapped! Series : North Italy – Today Italy, Tomorrow the World

I apologize for the long wait. I just have so much 'other' work ( h.w., ugh), and I just finished writing a translation from act two, scene two in Romeo and Juliet, and finished a revision of any essay. Now that all of that is taken care of, I can concentrate more on my stories. 

Warning(s): Cruelty, blood, slavery, rape and death. Not all of the countries are asses. I just exaggerated the meanness to go with the story.

Enjoy. 

Part I

Feliciano hummed happily to himself as he headed towards the World Meeting. It was set in his part of the country and he was hosting the meeting. The others hardlyasked for his opinion before, and now that they did, he was excited to share his ideas with countries from all over the world! He pushed open the meeting doors to find the usual chaotic scene. France and England were yelling at each other, America was teasing Canada, Prussia somehow managed to sneak into the place and was bothering Germany-

"Excuse me, everyone. The meeting is about to be-"

America was now yelling at England, and France was yelling at England. The Asian countries were arguing amongst themselves and Germany was struggling to get everyone's attention.

"Everyone, shut the hell up so my brother can speak, dammit!" Romano yelled, livid. It suddenly became quiet. Feliciano nodded slightly at his brother and pulled up his power-point in the front of the room. The Italian man cleared his throat and began:

"Hey there everybody. Today I will be talking about my plan on making the pasta-filled world a better place." He pressed a button and the screen moved from the introductory slide to the next one.

"First, let's talk about war. I have a great idea on this one! I know how many of you love to battle and don't mind. Instead of using bullets and explosives during wars, how about we limit it to just bullets-"

"Nope. Won't work." A voice said. Feliciano started to sweat a little.

"No way! We all know how Russia loves to nuke people and shit-" America spoke up.

"Am I the only Superpower country in the world? You are responsible for bombing places like everyone else, not just me," Russia retorted.

"Well when Japan bombed us we had no choice but to strike back!"

"That is because you intruded into business that wasn't really yours-" Japan hissed.

"We all wouldn't be here today if Russia pushed the button-"

"It is not Russia's fault. You Americans are stubborn-"

"Italy is trying to speak! Be quiet!" Germany bellowed. The two eventually settled down and looked at the front.

"Like I said, we don't really need explosives too much, and besides, it'll cost less money! And if we need to nuke someone, we can always use hydrogen nukes. It's clean and effective. Although I wouldn't suggest fighting anyway~" Feliciano saw a few heads nod in appreciation. He felt a little more confident.

"Not everyone is like you," America teased. "Nobody is like you. You never want to fight. All you do is paint and eat pasta all day. Haha!" Feliciano masked a smile.

"There's nothing wrong with that," He responded weakly.

"You are the only country who does that," England pointed out. "The only one who needs their hand held while fighting. It's a shame no other country will ask for your help during any war."

"Germany asks for my help sometimes. Right, Germany?" The Italian said. The man pinched the bridge of his nose. Some countries countries were laughing and chuckling, while others were shaking their heads.

"Not really -"

"See? Why are you suggesting anything? You don't know the first thing about war. Even your brother Romano is a better fighter than you, and he is Italian as well-"

"Hey!" Romano shouted.

The nations continued to fight and argue, once again. Feliciano was cowering in a corner while Germany was trying to calm him down alone.

"I'm so sick of it, ve~"

"I know Italy-" A painting of his went flying, hitting the wall that the two were leaning against. Feliciano grew angry.

"La mia opera d'arte! Ho lavorato su quello per settimane!(1)" The Italian man screamed. Germany hugged the man and yelled for the other countries

quiet down.

I'm so sick of it, ve~...

Part II

Feliciano was resting on a throne, his feet propped up on a stool. Today was another day in the kingdom of Rome, Italy. A servant came running up to him.

"Your majesty! Some of the workers aren't doing their job out in the fields!" The man exclaimed.

"Isn't my fratello(2) supposed to be watching over them?" He snapped.

"N-no, he's taking a break." Furious, he pushed the scared man out of the way and headed outside. I need to see this...

"Hey, England. Watch this!" Alfred hurled a huge rock at the head of a statue of the king. Their king.

"You idiot! What are you doing?"Arthur yelled.

"I'm showing the king statue what it deserves!" He said.

"Alfred!" A voice screeched. Alfred broke into a sweat.

"I-It's not what it looks like." Feliciano picked up the head of the statue and inspected it. He growled.

"Seize him!" The king cried. Russia and Germany grabbed the American by his arms. He started to struggle.

"This isn't fair! You can't keep all of us in here like this!" A malicious smile appeared on Feliciano's face.

"Si, I can. Take him to my room."

"Yes, sir." The countries that were working watched the man get taken away. The Italian glowered at all of them.

"Why are you all just standing there?! Get to work!"

Alfred waited a while in the Masters' bedroom until the door opened. In stepped Feliciano. He shut the door behind him.

"Buonasera(3), Alfred. I had some errands to run, but I can't keep my company waiting." Fear shot through Alfred's body.

"Why?" He choked out, starting to cry. Feliciano walked over to the bed and sat next to him.

"Because I see. I see now. That power can corrupt one so badly that they lose themselves." Feliciano chuckled darkly. "No wonder you countries were after so much land in the past.

That was how you gained popularity and power throughout the world. And let me tell you, the feeling of controlling another country, of control itself," He crawled on top of Alfred, who was shaking badly, "Hurts so good."

He pulled his shirt off and started unbuckling his belt. Alfred started to panic.

"What happened to the old Feliciano, the one who loved pasta, who loved to create works of art?" Alfred questioned, desperate to stall time.

"He's not here. He is dead. The new Feliciano thrives on power, money, and control of everyone else. I used to be a weak, stupid boy who never grew up nor wanted to. Now, I'm just like everyone else, Alfred. I'm a country now." He had the man tied to the bed and grabbed the whip from his closet.

"Enough waiting. Now to punish you for you disobedience..." Alfred started to cry. Feliciano grinned.

"Cry all you want. But you're my puttana(4) now. Like everyone else." He thrusted the leather whip onto Alfred's chest. He screamed. The pain was overbearing, as the American was void of all clothing. Every time he was struck, his screams and shouts of protesting increased until his voice became dry and hoarse. When the captor decided that his torturee had enough, he tossed the piece of leather away and forced a hardened member down his throat.

"Your mouth is the only choice of lubricant. Choose wisely." Alfred eyed a bottle of lube on his nightstand. That bastard...

Alfred unwillingly took it into his mouth and the Italian man groaned. He pulled out and entered him with brutal force. Alfred gasped in pain.

"Alfred, sei così stretto e caldo ... Sono sorpreso che l'Inghilterra non si è ancora arrivati a te, no(5)?" Feliciano laughed as he thrusted into Alfred mercilessly. Alfred just shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. He was silently begging for his 'punishment' to be over. And although he had no idea what the Italian said, he was pretty sure he was being insulted.

"Dio mio(6)!" Feliciano groaned. "Con il tempo ho finito con te, si sta andando ad essere crudo e secco(7)!" Alfred grimaced at the Italian-sounding phrases. He was being pounded into the bed and it hurt. Usually, this could be sexy, but he was being raped. Feliciano started mumbling some more Italian phrases, his eyes closed in ecstasy, his back arched...

"Sì!(8)" He yelled before he came into Alfred. Panting and still affected by the orgasm, he pulled himself out and dressed himself, leaving Alfred broken. Tears were running down Alfred's face. Feliciano started to leave, but turned to face Alfred.

"I used to think that you were a cool guy, America. But of course, you're really just like everyone else."

Then silence.

Part III

Romano sighed. He was wondering how his brother managed to take over Europe, or the whole world for that matter! Was it the power that came with the anger, the hate, the fury-

'My Feli was never so angry in his life'. He started to wonder why, but he stopped himself. It was obvious. So painfully obvious...

Now, he regretted treated his brother so harshly, even when he did anything wrong. And his own bad temper -

Romano jumped when the door to his room opened, but relaxed when he saw Spain come in. Spain looked scared as well. They all were.

"Hey there tomato," Spain whispered. Romano didn't smile.

"What are you doing here? You aren't supposed to be here!" Romano hissed.

"I decided to stop by on my way to the laundry room. Besides, I need your laundry."

"Antonio, I'm scared."

"Aren't we all?"

"Yes, but... I mean, it's gotten to the point where I'm scared of my own fratello. He's taking this way too far."

"Sί, I agree. But how are we going to stop all of this?"

"The only option at this point is... murder." The Spanish man's eyes widened.

"Isn't that going a little too far?"

"Y-you're right. Forget I even said anything-"

"Forget you said what?" Feliciano demanded. The two looked startled to find their King standing right there. How much has he heard?

"Spain, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to do the laundry, not talk with my fratello!" He scolded.

Antonio scrambled to his feet and grabbed Romano's dirty clothes. He dumped them into a bigger container.

I-I was just heading to the l-laundry room." He squinted at him.

"Then go." Spain hurried away. Felicano sat next to his brother.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing Feli. I was just about to clean up, actually." He slapped his brother on cheek and pushed him roughly onto the ground.

"Don't lie to me," Feliciano hissed angrily.

"I-I was!" The younger brother shot him one last hard look before leaving the room.

"You'd better not be plotting against me. I'm not afraid to kill anyone, even my own fratello."

After Feliciano slammed the door behind him, Romano released a breath he was holding and slumped into his chair, crying. Alfred burst into Romano's room not long after. Romano lifted his head.

"You need to talk to your brother, Romano!" He pleaded. "You know what he did earlier?" Romano swallowed back tears and shook his head, even though he fully knew.

"He whipped me, then raped me. Please, Romano-"

"There is nothing I can do," Romano admitted, sounding defeated. The American sighed.

"You don't have any ideas on how to stop him?" The sounthern Italian man paused but shook his head.

"Yes, you do. Come on. Any idea will do. If we don't do anything now, think about what he will do in the future." Romano thought that himself and the desperate American in front of him were an unlikely team, but he was right. This has been going on for too long. A few years, in fact. Romano nodded.

"We need to have a meeting with the other countries. In the meantime... try and stay away from fratello." With a plan in mind, Romano was able to catch a good amount of sleep that night.

Romano woke up with a good frame of mind that morning. He decided that the meeting will be held in the afternoon, when his fratello would be having lunch. He let Alfred know.

"Awesome! Then we can probably put our plan into action tonight. If we can."

"Maybe."

Romano and Alfred gathered around the group of countries from every part of the world. Romano cleared his throat. Surprisingly, it became quiet. Perhaps they were in need of a plan as well.

"Friends and enemies, countries and continents, provininces and islands-" Antonio elbowed his friend. Romano cleared his throat again out of anxiety this time.

"My friend Antonio and myself have called you all here to discuss what's going on. We all know that we are being abused, hurt, and taken advantage of. But we must think for a minute: Wasn't this most of our fault? We were cruel to our King, and underestimated him. And then we went too far. We took advantage of him." There was silence and nodding. Everyone felt bad. "However, we can still change that. If we treat him with respect, then he will probably change his mind. But we all need to do that. Not just a few people. Because we cannot go back to before. We must agree to change our ways and do it." The countries agreed and clapped at Romano's speech. He was right. What kind of monster have they all created...?

A young boy ran up to the stage and called for 'Mister Vargas'.

"Hey, kid. What's your name?" Antonio asked, attempting to be friendly.

"My name is Sealand, but you can call me Peter," He said. "I just found out while peeking in the King's quarters that he murdered a country..."

"Who was it?" Romano demanded.

"America and the fifty states." Romano's heart sank. He didn't even get to carry out his plan...

There was a solemn silence in the room, except for an extremely livid Brit.

"That wanker! He'll pay for that! Where is he?!" He screamed. France and England's brothers were trying to calm him down, but it was no use. The crownd started to chatter amongst themselves.

"Everybody, please settle down!" Antonio cried.

"The King needs to be stopped!"

"Yeah!"

"How about we poison him!" England shouted. They could... The rest of the countries went long with England's plan.

They even took a vote.

In satisfaction, everyone came apon the desicion that in order to avenge Alfred, America,the King must be killed.

During his last meal.

Part IV

The countries decided that they should be on their best behavior now if they wanted to carry their plan out without being found out. Romano offered to serve his brother his breakfast with the poisonous drink on his tray. France had cooked the King's meal especially good for a last one. Romano just hoped that his brother wouldn't sense anything fishy.

The Italian's heart rate sped up as he reached his fratello's room, breakfast in hands. There was even his favorite hand-picked flowers on the tray. Romano took a deep breath and stepped into his brother's quarters. There Feliciano was, lying in bed, waiting...

"I'm not getting any younger here. Bring me my food already." Romano swallowed and handed his fratello his food. Feliciano smiled and nodded. For a second, Romano could have sworn that he saw a glimpse of the old Feliciano, but he probably imagined it...

"Te amo(9), fratello," Feliciano purred. Romano forced down tears in his eyes.

"Te amo, Feli."

It was excruciatingly painful to watch his brother eat to his own death, but this had to be done...

Lastly, Feliciano drank his orange juice to wash the food down. He licked his lips in approval.

"Grazie(10), Romano."

"Di niente, Feli(11)." Slowly, Romano could tell that his fratello was dying. Feliciano groaned softly in pain.

"Ro-mano, I don't feel very we- ahh..." A sharp pain was felt in his body and his heart stopped. His arms drooped to the side of the bed and the glass shattered into millions of pieces on the golden marble floor. Romano started to weep and he kissed his brother's forehead.

"Te amo, Feli."

Now , they were free. 

Finally free.

Whew! Glad that's done! It was a lot, that's for sure. Eight pages in my word document... -_-

Anyway, here are the translations. Half I know, and half is from Google Translate …. :/ 

La mia opera d'arte! Ho lavorato su quello per settimane! - My work of art! I have been working on that for weeks!

Fratello – Brother

(3) Buonera – Good evening

4) Puttana – Bitch (as in slut, whore, etc.)

(5) Alfred, sei così stretto e caldo ... Sono sorpreso che l'Inghilterra non si è ancora arrivati a te, no? - Alfred, you're so tight and hot ... I'm surprised that England has not yet come to you, no?

Dio Mio - My God

Con il tempo ho finito con te, si sta andando ad essere crudo e secco! - By the time I'm done with you, you're going to be raw and dry!

Sí – Yes

Te amo -I love you

Grazie – Thank you,thanks

(11) Di niente – You're welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Glad that's done! It was a lot, that's for sure. Eight pages in my word document... -_-
> 
> Anyway, here are the translations. Half I know, and half is from Google Translate …. :/ 
> 
> La mia opera d'arte! Ho lavorato su quello per settimane! - My work of art! I have been working on that for weeks!
> 
> Fratello – Brother
> 
> (3) Buonera – Good evening
> 
> 4) Puttana – Bitch (as in slut, whore, etc.)
> 
> (5) Alfred, sei così stretto e caldo ... Sono sorpreso che l'Inghilterra non si è ancora arrivati a te, no? - Alfred, you're so tight and hot ... I'm surprised that England has not yet come to you, no?
> 
> Dio Mio - My God
> 
> Con il tempo ho finito con te, si sta andando ad essere crudo e secco! - By the time I'm done with you, you're going to be raw and dry!
> 
> Sí – Yes
> 
> Te amo -I love you
> 
> Grazie – Thank you,thanks
> 
> (11) Di niente – You're welcome


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The Baltics are scared of Russia because of the abuse he gives them. When Russia becomes particularly angry one day, he starves the Trio close to death... If they cannot be fed, what else can they eat?

Hey guys! Here's another Snapped! One, requested by .Awesome. When she suggested a Snapped! Baltic Trio, I was like, " Why didn't I think of that?" Thanks, .Awesome!

So here it is. Enjoy! :)

Summary: The Baltics are scared of Russia because of the abuse he gives them. When Russia becomes particularly angry one day, he starves the Trio close to death... If they cannot be fed, what else can they eat?

Warning(s): Abuse ( physically, emotionally, etc. ), cannibalism, blood, near-death.

Russia was angry.

Sure, he was angry often ( although he refuses to show to everyone else except to whom he lived with ), but he was extremely upset. Livid.

Well, he was particularly livid with the other three countries living in his house.

Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, who were named the Baltic Trio.

On a business trip with China, the Russian man had received a phone call from Belarus, the babysitter, on how the boys had drank up all of his vodka, drunkenly trashed the place and what not while she ran out for a bit. So he rushed over as soon as he could and demanded the Trio to see him. Silence.

"Торис, Райвис, Эдуард, приходите ко мне в этот момент!" Russia yelled. Silence. Russia growled in annoyance. Then the three boys came together, all of them rushing to meet the large country.

"Y-yes, Mister Ivan-"

"Why did I get a phone call from my sister saying that you drank up all of my vodka and dirtied this place up?" The Estonian spoke up.

"We-we were curious -"

"Don't give me that pathetic excuse. I want this place cleaned up – now!" In a hurry, the three stumbled over each other, grabbing the supplies to clean. "And don't stop until it's clean!" With that, the Russian man headed upstairs and slammed his bedroom door. Scared, the Latvian began to cry.

"I didn't even do anything! I..." Toris hugged him.

"Don't cry. We can clean this up and we will be fine." Toris stated.

"But you always say that. We always get the same thing..." Eduard felt his heart tug painfully. Toris was silent this time. "Mister Ivan says that we aren't good enough, that we're bad countries-" Toris squeezed the Latvian's shoulders.

"He's lying to you. He wants you to think that so you will feel bad about yourself. Don't you see?" Toris cried.

"See what, Торис?" Toris froze and turned around. He paled.

"N-nothing, Iv-aahhh!" Ivan grabbed Toris by his neck and picked him up in the air.

"You aren't talking about me behind my back, da?" He asked.

"No-ahh!" Ivan squeezed his neck harder. Blood started to run past his lips and down his neck, onto the Russian's fingers. Raivis cried and tugged and Ivan's leg.

"Let him go!" He yelled, but received a painful blow to his ribcage.

"Get off of Russia. You do not want to make him even more angry, нет?" Eduard pulled Raivis from the Russian and held him. Ivan and Eduard made eye contact for a second, they tore their eyes away from each others. Ivan still had Toris by his neck as he headed towards the basement.

Eduard was still shaking, scared by what had occurred. He started to cry. Raivis had trouble breathing, Eduard noticed. Shortly, he took him to the hospital. He needed to get help.

But from who?

Toris was in fetal position, lying in a cage. He was nervous for what Ivan was going to do to him. Surely, he wasn't going to be left in this cage... Then he heard footsteps and his heart began to pound hard in his chest. They stopped.

"You dare lie to Mother Russia, after all she has done for you? She gives you a house to live in, a bed to sleep in, and things for yourself! You take advantage of that ?" Toris shook in fear as Ivan walked closer. "You will be punished." The cage opened, and a hand reached to pull the boy out of it. He was thrown onto the cold, cement floor. Toris inched away, but Ivan caught up to him. He kicked him hard in the stomach and chest. Toris whimpered and Ivan laughed.

"What's wrong, my little Toris? Why are you so scared of me?" Toris was lying, limp on the ground. The Russian picked the boy up and threw him back down again, over and over, cracking his skull. The hair on his his head was glued by the blood seeping from his skull. His ribs were poking out from his chest and a part of his brain was coming out of his head. His body started to jerk and spasm until most the blood in his body had leaked out onto the floor.

Then Toris became completely still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really depressing to write... but don't worry, the Baltics will get their revenge! I hate to write Russia as the bad guy, I really do, but in this story he had to be. There will be one more chapter after this, much longer. 
> 
> Until then,
> 
> ~ForTheLoveOfWriting


	5. The Baltic Trio's Revenge - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The Baltics are scared of Russia because of the abuse he gives them. When Russia becomes particularly angry one day, he beats and starves the Trio close to death... Russia ends up almost killing one of the brothers. Then the Trio get their revenge.

Warning(s): Abuse ( physically, emotionally, etc. ) , cannibalism, blood, near-death, and death.

Chapter 2

Eduard raced his youngest brother, Raivis, to the emergency room. Doctors swarmed around the boy and tried to give him the medical attention he needed. When things were more calm, a doctor began to question the older brother.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"H-he fell down the stairs..." Eduard lied. After making up false information, the doctor finally concluded that the boy should stay overnight. The Estonian became nervous.

"How long will it be?" He questioned.

"Judging from what I know, a few weeks. Just to make sure that he can become independent and walk on his own." Two weeks?! 

After thanking the doctor, he headed home to find Ivan sitting in his chair in the living room, waiting.

"So you're back." Eduard tensed.

"Y-yes. Latvia is in critical condition, so I took him to the hospital-" Ivan grabbed Eduard by his arm and faced him.

"Why? Do you not trust that Russia will take care of him, or any or you?"

"No. Not really."

With an angry growl, he dragged Eduard to the basement and pushed him into a cage, where Toris was.

"Toris?" Eduard whispered. Then he gasped at the sight. The Lithuanian was extremely pale and had rings under his eyes. His bones, especially his ribs, were prominent under his skin, which was also very dry and brittle.

"Eduard?" Toris answered hoarsely. "Is that you?" Eduard hugged his older brother. Toris was taken aback by the display of affection, but he hugged back anyway.

"What happened to you?" Eduard whispered back, knowing the answer fully well. Toris swallowed slowly.

"Russia... He beat me then starved me. Where's Raivis?" Eduard began to cry.

"He's in the hospital. That's how bad Ivan hurt him." Toris hung his head low.

"Now Russia's going to bring him back and beat him even more, no, he'll beat all of us!" Toris cried. An idea popped into the Estonian's head.

"Isn't Russia at the G-8 meeting?" Toris nodded. "This is the perfect time to escape – we need help."

"No, shit," Toris shot back, but just went into a long coughing fit.

"I could use my cell phone, but there's no reception down here. No worries though! I think you're skinny enough to get out of this cage." Toris stared at his brother in disbelief.

"I don't think so."

"Come on, Toris! We need help! You need to try, at least. Before it's too late," Eduard urged.

"Fine."

Toris fit through the cage perfectly.

"Now get me out from the other side - and hurry!"

No one question the absence of the Baltic Trio, mainly because most of them were scared of the big, Russian man. Even Alfred was.

"Um, the Baltic states were supposed to run this meeting," Germany started. Russia smiled.

"I will run this meeting for them, da?"

"But, Russia-" Alfred started. Russia's malicious aura began to grow.

"You do not question Mother Russia. If I say I will do something, I will do it. Yes?" No one else bothered to protest after that. Ivan walked up to the front of the room.

"It is agreed that the Baltics will officially become One with Russia." Silence. "They have finally succumbed to the wrath of the Motherland." A smile spreads across his face. "Any questions?" No one raised a hand.

"Good."

Eduard was attempting to contact someone, anyone, to help them. Toris collapsed onto the couch.

"What's the point? All the other countries are just going to ignore us or act like nothing's wrong!" Cried Toris. Eduard held up a finger.

"Hello, Ukraine? We need help really bad. Yes, It's Russia..." After negotiating with Ivan's sister, Eduard hung up. Toris looked at him.

"What did she say?" Eduard smiled.

" She said that she'll take care of Russia.

Darkness and the cold filled the room. The man kicked and squirmed, his hands being bound by God-knows-what. What was going on? 

Then a light flickered on.

"Hello, Mister Ivan." The man shuddered.

"E-Eduard? What the hell is going on?" Ivan demanded. The Estonian simply smiled.

"Oh, don't worry. Toris and I are just going to have some fun. Raivis is still in the hospital. Of course, I'm sure we all know who's responsible for that. Right, Russia?" A cold, hard, metal object was placed on Ivan's neck. It teasingly slid down his neck, then chest...

"My pipe-"

"Yes, it is. It's a very nice-looking pipe, at that. Isn't it?" Eduard answered, running the pipe down the Russian's chest. "However , this pipe has a special use tonight." Ivan's heart began to pulsate faster.

And with that, the metal pipe raised above his head, Eduard swung right in the middle of the Russian's chest.

Ivan screamed in complete pain. A huge gash where his sternum, the spot right between his ribs, cracked and began bleed out. As Eduard repeatedly struck Ivan's chest, his ribs broke apart, sticking out at odd angles, tearing his pale skin. Toris was looking excitedly at his brother and was creeping up closer to the scene. Blood was covering Ivan's face, large bruises were decorated on and around his chest and even his legs were broken. Ivan began to chant, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, to no one in particular. He was coughing up dark -red blood and was still crying. Eduard looked down at his former master, smiling.

"Don't cry yet – I'm not done!" Eduard, with his bare hands, pulled Ivan's now-weakened rib cage apart with his bare hands with a loud crack. All of his organs started to spill out onto the bed. The two brothers stared at what was in front of them. Then Ivan's heart ceased to beat.

The Estonian faced his brother and nodded.

"Let's eat!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this was very different from how I had imagined it to turn out to be. But nonetheless, I like it... I think. I hope you readers liked it as well. I will be doing a Snapped! Ukraine and a Snapped! Sealand. They will be up this week. Until then... ~ ForTheLoveOfWriting


	6. Snapped! Ukraine: Brother Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: During one visit to Russia's house, Ukraine ( Katyushka in this one ) is fed up with her sister Belarus's attempts at seducing him and getting to marry her. So Ukraine decides to take matters into her own hands – Belarus excluded.

Warning(s): Character death, blood, violence. 

"Welcome, brother, sister. I'm so glad you could make it," Katyushka greeted warmly, a hand

outstretched.

"We are glad we made it," Ivan replied. Natayla nodded, but did not smile. The Ukrainian noticed this.

This was going to be a long night.

"So, how are things going?" Ivan asked his older sister.

"Great, actually. Finances are finally looking up. I have more money to pay bills and debt money that I

owe you. I can even afford luxuries for myself..." Ivan smiled.

"That's good. This is a very nice-looking house indeed." Katyushka beamed a bit at the small

compliment. Glancing over, Natayla was resting her head on one of her palms, seeming bored. Then

Katyushka remembered the treats she left in the kitchen! She rose up from a couch, causing her to

almost fall. She headed to the kitchen and back.

"H-here are some treats I made earlier. It's Pampushky." Natayla pushed away the dessert.

"No, thank you. I already ate before I arrived. Thanks anyway," She replied, trying not to sound rude

( although it was tempting to snap at the sensitive woman ). It was a lie, and she and her brother knew it. However, nothing was said. Ivan took one.

"Thank you, Kat." Natayla winced at the nick-name. How dare he-

"You're welcome." Then she turned to her sister once more. "Are you sure you-"

"Yes, I'm sure!" She somewhat snapped. Katyushka ignored the tone in her voice.

"If you need me, I will be upstairs, taking your things to your guest rooms..."

"Thank you, Kat. I appreciate it," The Russian responded politely. As soon as her footsteps were faint,

Natayla turned to her brother frantically.

"Kat? Really, Ivan?" He shrugged.

"It's much easier to spell." The Belarusian crossed her arms.

"You were flirting with her." Ivan had a look of disbelief on his face.

"What? I do not like her like that. I never will." Natayla was pleased. "The same goes for you." She

frowned.

"How come? I'm much more prettier than her, much more powerful..."

"I do not care. I do not like you like that." With that, the woman pouted.

"Whatever. But don't get so comfortable with her-"

"She's my sister, for God's sake!"

"That doesn't mean anything!"

After cleaning up, Kat poked her head out from the stairs to listen on her siblings' conversation.

"Do you know the real reason she brought you here? She brought you here so that she can have you all

to herself!" Ivan somewhat doubted her, but Kat held some kind of affection for him, too. It could be

possible. Ivan shrugged what's wrong with that? I mean, I would never love her like that..."

"Exactly!"

"Natayla..."

Kat felt angry and disappointed. Why didn't her brother see that he should be with her, and not their

crazy sister. She was a nice, polite woman. There was nothing she wouldn't do for her beloved brother.

Maybe her Russian brother liked women like Natayla. 

She hoped not.

As the siblings were getting ready for bed, Kat noticed that Natayla's things were moved to her

brother's room. She cringed.

"Good night, Katyushka," Ivan said. Then he closed his door.

Kat couldn't sleep. Images of her brother constantly invaded her mind, which were followed by 

Natayla. Kat sighed in frustration. Why is my sister her, anyway? Who told her that I invited Ivan to my 

house? Even he wouldn't have told where he was going! Kat decided to check on her brother. She snuck out into the hall and peeked in the room a few doors down from hers. She saw Natayla dangerously

close to Ivan, and she was talking to him. They laughed every now and then and smiled at each other-

Kat's stomach began to ache. Not only was Natayla's arrival aggravating her, she's also sleeping with

their brother! Her eye twitched. When Natayla excused herself and slid off the bed, heading to the

bathroom. Thinking quickly, Kat grabbed her sister's throat and squeezed. Natayla struggled for air. Kat

only squeezed tighter.

"I swear, if you touch my brother in any way, I will really make sure you don't do it again." Hate was

in Kat's eyes; she glared hard at her sister. " I hate you."

Snap.

Natayla slumped to the ground with a loud thud.

"What's going on out there?" Ivan called from inside the room. Kat gave a disgusted look at the now-

lifeless body before her.

"Nothing, Ivan. We are fine." Kat began to drag Natayla down the steps.

This needs to go in the deep freezer.

That morning, Kat woke up early to make breakfast for her brother. He needed it. He looked like he hadn't slept.

"Katyushka? Are you down there?" Ivan asked as he approached the kitchen.

"I'm here!" Katyushka set out the food on the dining room table. There were eggs, treats that were similar to pancakes, and then there was the meat. Ivan was puzzled. He had never seen this kind of meat before in his life. It must be from my sister's culture, Ivan thought as he took a bite.

It was surely delicious, but so different. He had to remind his sister to buy more of this stuff before his

next visit. I have to know what this is, though. It's so good! 

"Katyushka?" The woman turned to him.

"Yes, brother?"

"What is this? It's very good. I would like some more." Kat chuckled for a minute, then told him,

"It's Belarusian meat, made from Belarus."

"What do you mean?" Ivan asked, getting a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"I mean," Kat replied, cleaning the last of the dirty dishes , "Natayla."

AN: Hey guys ! I really dislike late updates, but for some time, I had completely forgotten about this * Gets pot thrown at me* ! I'm sorry! Anyway, I hope you like it. I was lost as to how I would hve written this... And this is what I came out with. 

Until next time,

ForTheLoveOfCats


	7. Warning(s): Character death, blood, violence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Sealand digs in England's things and comes across a spell book. While performing a spell, he begins to manipulate the things around him using his new-found ability. Especially England.

Summary: Sealand digs in England's things and comes across a spell book. While performing a spell, he begins to manipulate the things around him using his new-found ability. Especially England.

Peter was bored. Like, bored out of his mind. His uncle Scotland had sent him over to his brother England's house, saying 'the boy needs something to do'. The only things he could do there was to annoy England, sleep, and eat. Everything the man owned was either locked away from visitors in mysterious places, or so old and dusty, not even the English man himself would dare touch.

"Peter!" Arthur yelled. Peter sighed.

"Yes, Iggy?" A disgruntled noise came from the other room.

"Come here, you git!" Peter rolled his eyes. He went upstairs to find England in a room full of books, a cauldron, potions, and a weird-looking star embedded in the middle of the floor...

"There you are. Grab those books over by the shelf."

"Okay." The books must have weighed a ton, so Peter ended up dragging them to Arthur. He took the books and opened one to a specific page with a strange-looking star on it. Peter cocked his head.

"What's that?" He asked.

"Not now, Peter!" Arthur eventually followed Peter's gaze and noticed that he was staring the pentagram on the page.

"Oh, that's a symbol I use to cast spells upon."

Peter took fascination with the mysterious symbol, and questioned about it to Arthur. This was all so new to him; he had always seen glimpses of spell books, or short conversations with other countries. Most of them usually dismissed it as hallucinations, or drugs. However, Peter knew better. So when the younger nation happened to stay over at his house, he helped Arthur with his spells, good or bad.

One day, Peter decided that he was going to try and cast a spell himself.

Arthur had warned the not to use the room without his supervision, or permission ( he was breaking both rules). The British nation had also warned that amateurs are much more at risk for becoming possessed if not careful, casting spells they shouldn't be, putting everyone in danger, and so on. At first, the information spooked him. But, Peter managed to muster up the courage to do it - while Arthur was asleep.

Peter snick down into the basement and grabbed the book the Arthur was working on earlier from the shelf. He flipped to the page Arthur was working on himself. He was trying cast a spell that would grant one 'magical powers'. Peter was a bit skeptical, especially after Arthur's ( failed ) attempts at it. Peter tried to do it himself. He grabbed a special potion from the shelf and poured it into the pentagram. The in-carved symbol filled itself with the purple liquid. Then, one each pointed part of the star, he put purple candles on them and lit each wick. Sitting with his legs crossed in the middle, Peter read the spell from the book:

Calling faeries from above,

Grant the spell that I want

With purple candles

And sacred liquid

Make my spell work for me.

The pentagram glowed a very bright purple, and the flames grew bigger. Peter felt rush of excitement, but covered his eyes. The book began to float in the air. Peter's eyes were wide. I did it!

Just as quickly as it came, the pentagram stopped glowing, and the book fell with a big thud. 

Peter was disappointed. What did I do wrong? Unhappy with the results, Peter trudged back upstairs.

Well, that what was a waste of my time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey again, guys! This will be the last installment of Snapped! Hetalia. I hope you have enjoyed reading. One more chapter to go! :)
> 
> ~ForTheLoveOfCats


	8. In Which Sealand Becomes Powerful - 2

Peter woke up late that morning. He was still tired from last night, and the events that had occurred came back to him. He groaned.

I need an Aspirin or something... what's that smell? Someone else must be here, because Iggy can't cook!

Getting up from his bed, he went downstairs to the kitchen to be greeted with a cheerful Arthur and a cooking Francis.

“Good morning, Francis, Iggy.” England snorted, indicating his ruined mood.

“Good morning, brat.”

“Bonjour, Peter. Have you had a nice sleep?” Francis asked. Peter shrugged.

“I guess.” Peter refrained from telling the two, especially Arthur, about last night.

After breakfast, Peter, Francis, and Arthur drove out to the G-8 meeting. When they arrived, it was already chaotic in the place. Nations arguing from left to right, and an angry Germany trying to settle everyone down by yelling.

A typical meeting to be in.

Peter sighed. It was going to be awhile until they actually began talking about important things, so he just sat in his seat. However, the commotion continued to get worse and worse. Germany's yelling had increased. Peter shut his eyes.

God, why can't anyone shut up and listen to each other for once? Why does every meeting have to start like this?! Everybody needs to just stop-

Suddenly, the lights violently flickered and burned out, fluorescent exploding all around the room. Startled, people began to scream.

“What the hell was that?!”

“What just happened...?”

“Damn it!”

Everyone obviously disturbed with what had just occurred, Germany managed to calm them down easier.

“The lights just blew out, there's nothing wrong with that-”

“The lights did more than that!” That white stuff from the bulbs is everywhere!” Romano cried. The joke would have been funny if everyone weren't so aroused in fear.

Eventually, the nations calmed down and came to their senses. 

Why would they be so scared of blown-out light bulbs, anyway?

 

“As usual, we accomplished nada today,” Arthur growled, driving from the meeting with Peter and Francis in the car. Francis just shook his head.

“But the light bub incident was strange, non? It just happened out of nowhere.” Arthur agreed. Even Peter had to agree. That has never occurred before, has it?

When the three arrived in Arthur's house, they found Ivan and Alfred in his living room.

“How the hell did you get in my house-”

“I used to live here, dude,” Alfred replied, holding up a key. Arthur mumbled something and tossed his coat on the rack.

“Russia can stay as well, da?” Ivan asked.

“Sure, why not...” 

Alfred grabbed the remote and began to change the channel, bored.

“There's nothing to watch on here except for baby cartoons and old, stuffy British soap-operas!” The American complained.

“Hey!” Arthur yelled defensively. The two argued over what to watch, while France brought out they wine. Ivan just smiled and watched the two fight.

By itself, the television changed to Peter's favorite show. The nations stopped.

“Did you do that?” Arthur asked Alfred.

“No! I totally didn't do that! I don't even watch this stuff.”

“I have the beverages!” Francis called. He held the red wine bottle in his hand, and glasses in the other.

“Oh, great. Just what I need at the moment.”

“Awesome!”

“Thank you. Russia appreciates it. However, I have already have my vodka with me.” Arthur turned to Peter. 

“You need to leave. It's Adult Time, now.” Peter pouted.

“But I wanna watch my show. It's on!” Peter cried.

“No, Peter. Watch it upstairs!” Arthur snapped. Peter glared at him.

“You never spend time with me. You're either working, or getting drunk off of your ass with other nations!” Peter retorted. Alfred laughed.

“He's right, dude! You're always so depressed-”

“Shut your mouth and go upstairs. Now.” Arthur growled.

“No! I'm tired of you mistreating me. I'm a country, too! Why do you deny it? I'm a country, too!” Peter screamed. 

Suddenly, the glasses in Francis's hand burst into several pieces, cutting up his hand. Francis yelped and grabbed his bloody wrist. Eyes wide, the little boy ran to his room.

“Merde!”

The three older nations went to grab a towel and cleaned up his hand a bit.

“That's gonna need stitches,” Ivan commented. Francis groaned.

 

Peter sat on his bed, bored.

He couldn't believe that he was grounded. He didn't even do anything really, except for tell the prick off.

I guess that's something.

Another thing that bugged him slightly were the strange occurrences today. The light bulb, the television, the wine glass-

He felt a faint pang of guilt. Did he do all of that? 

It sure seemed like it. He hoped that he hadn't.

There was a knock on Peter's door. He sighed. 

“Come in.” Arthur entered the room, drunk. Peter tensed.

“Yes, dad?” The Englishman stumbled on some of his toys and the rug, trying to get to his son.

“C-come 'ere, so I can give ye a blo'y spankin',” Arthur answered, attempting to reach out at Peter. Peter backed up.

“D-dad, you're really drunk – maybe you should lie down,” Peter stammered. 

“You embarrass me in front of me mates, you embarrass me in front of me lover -”

“Lover?” Peter questioned.

“Francis, ya twit. Now come 'ere...” Bumping into the wall, Peter cowered in the corner. Then, he heard a cry. Peter looked up and gasped.

Arthur was floating up in the air, struggling to get down.

“Put me down!” Arthur yelled at Peter. Arthur quickly fell to onto the rug. Peter ran out of the room and out of the house. 

 

He needed help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I said that this would be the last chapter, but I lied. I have an idea for this story, I decided to leave off here. Besides, I don't want to keep you guys and girls waiting!
> 
> The next chapter will be up tomorrow.


	9. Chapter 9

In Which Sealand Becomes Powerful

Summary: Sealand digs in England's things and comes across a spell book. After performing a spell, he begins to notice that he can manipulate the things around him using his new-found ability - Even England.

That night, Peter couldn't sleep. Besides the worry of being grounded, he had realized that what had happened was because of him.

I wish I weren't so curious about England's magic! Now, he won't let me in there. He knows what's going on...

Wait - he could sneak back in there and reverse the spell! Excited, Peter quickly tossed his sheets off of him and got up out of bed. Remembering that his dad was asleep, he tippy-toed through the halls to the room.

When he had gotten there, he began searching frantically for the book. It was thick, hard, black...

Yes!

Peter flipped through the pages and spotted the spell. Its pages were purple and glowing. Now I need to -

"There you are, you brat!" A voice yelled. England!

Peter clutched the spell book to his chest and backed up against a bookshelf as the Brit marched towards him.

"What are you doing down here? You didn't ask!"

"I-I'm sorry, I-" Peter started to cry.

"I know what's going on! Don't act like you have no idea - you had cast a spell-"

"-And I'm sorry!" Peter sobbed. His face was wet with tears. He had soon realized that he was crying not only by what he was done - could have been worse - but what England, the former empire, was capable of. England gets on his knees and softens the tone of his voice.

"You're sorry, are you?" He asks. Peter nods his head. England runs a hand through Peter's blonde hair, then angrily yanks it up.

"Mr. England-"

"Now you want to use formalities, boy? I have told you so many times, do not come down here unless I let you. But you didn't listen..." Peter was thrown to the ground, and the boy had a glimpse of hatred in the Brit's eyes. Why was it such a big deal?

"I'm tired of dealing with your bullshit..." The British man had noticed the book in his son's hands.

"Give it to me!" England growls. Peter tries to struggle out of his dad's grip.

"No!"

"Now!" Peter was flipped over, facing England. England had his hands on his shoulders. The Brit's green eyes had darkened.

"Let go of me!" The book was finally retrieved by England.

I need that book! Peter glared at his dad, who was putting the book back on its responsible shelf. Peter had his fists clenched No!

Thump!

England's body slumped weakly to the floor. Peter gasped and ran over to him to find he had stopped breathing.

Peter then sat there and cried. He hadn't meant to kill his father!

He grabbed the black book and proceeded to burn it in the cauldron. There. Now wake up, Iggy. Peter had concentrated on bringing him back to life.

Come on!

Nothing. Peter saw a stray piece of paper on the floor and he had picked it up. It was the spell he had cast! On the bottom was a small, hard-to-read note.

* If you find that the spell is effective and you have wanted someone dead, that wish is irreversible. Use with caution!

Peter sat there, concentrating on that note. It's too late now, he thought.

Then Peter fell to the floor, spell in hand.

END!

I hope you have enjoyed the series! Thanks for reading! ~ ForTheLoveOfCats


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